


Walking Amongst Giants

by yuzubalm



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: (Angst is Akaashi's), Akaashi introspective, Becoming Vice-Captain, Canon Compliant, Falling In Love, Fukurodani loves Akaashi like family, Getting Together, Getting to Know Each Other, I'm soft for them, It's tender but it's emotional and very personal, M/M, Self-Doubt, and then becoming Captain, imposter's syndrome / anxiety / fear, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-17
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-15 14:47:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28815120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuzubalm/pseuds/yuzubalm
Summary: Akaashi blinks in astonishment, careful to keep his mouth closed. His gaze flickers towards Bokuto, whose laughter carries across the room and into his ears. Hinata says something to him excitedly, and Bokuto’s head bobs up for a moment, making eye contact with Akaashi as he grins, and,oh, Akaashi suddenly thinks, heart skipping a beat, that maybe, justmaybe, he could believe it-It’s dangerous, Akaashi realises, startled, as he almost smiles back.This is the climb.If he falls now, it’ll be a long drop.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou
Comments: 23
Kudos: 170





	Walking Amongst Giants

**Author's Note:**

> Imposter’s syndrome character study + I love akaashi + I love bokuto + I fucking love bokuaka
> 
> This has been sitting in my drafts since november. When I reopened it this week, I knew instantly that I had to complete it. I do really like how some parts of this one went!
> 
> So, background: I was reading chapter 333 again and had a giant epiphany, and so this mcflurry of a piece was born. It is 40% character study, 40% fukurodani/bkak appreciation, and 20% introspective thinking, haha. CW for some anxiety, emotional fears, self-doubt. I have similar anxieties so it was cathartic, though a little painful, to write this.
> 
> special thanks to A for their kind, strong words of encouragement, and for pulling me into the fray:)

_“Hey.” A fist connects gently with his shoulder. “Hey, I was talking to you. Were you zoning out?”_

_Akaashi blinks, as though to bat sunlight out of his eyes. They’re indoors. “Sorry, I…” he trails off. “Wait, how long have you been talking?”_

_His friend laughs and waves it off._

_“It’s okay. I was asking you if this helped with your decision about high school. D’you know where you wanna go now?”_

_He prepares himself to sigh and say, oh, I don’t know, I’ll give my answer tomorrow. Instead, he replies, “Fukurodani,” with such certainty that he suddenly feels self-conscious about it._

_It’s not like he said “I want to play volleyball at Fukurodani,” or, “I want to set for him”, or, “I want to watch him shine”, which are all on the list of thoughts which Akaashi has certainly entertained but cannot and should not say to his middle school friend, Takeshi, who looks tickled by his reply anyway. “What’s so funny?”_

_“Mmmm. Nothing. Is it because of the volleyball team?”_

_He doesn’t feel bad answering this. “I suppose.”_

_“Ah. Well, I’m not sure where I’ll go yet.”_

_“Mm.”_

_“I’ll let you know, ok?”_

_“Mmm…okay.”_

_Was it supposed to be a difficult decision? Maybe he should have thought it through just a little more – what was it, the commute time? The uniforms? The size of their library? He supposes, objectively, Fukurodani has a nice library, while he supposes Suzumeoka has a nice school garden…_

_“Well, well…”_

_Akaashi only realises he’s zoned out again when he tunes back in and becomes acutely aware of his own fidgeting fingers drumming against his thigh. He glances at Takeshi, who has his thumb and index fingers resting under his chin, in thought._

_“You’re chasing it,” Takeshi says suddenly, which makes Akaashi jolt slightly. “You’re aiming for higher peaks.”_

_He struggles, and fails, to be indifferent._

_“I guess I am,” he says quietly._

_I’m aiming as high as I can allow myself to. I’m jumping off the hard floor to get a taste of the sky._

_“You’re chasing,” Takeshi repeats._

_“Maybe I am,” Akaashi finds himself saying. “But I think I can do it.”_

_The peak of peaks, above the clouds - if he works hard enough, maybe he’ll get a glimpse. The stars are brighter there._

_His thoughts are punctured by laughter._

_“Akaashi, you’ve become surprisingly bold, you know that?”_

_His friend grins, without malice._

_“I say go for it.”_

———

It’s not like he started out thinking he’d be good at volleyball, or that his aim was ever to be good at it. (To be the _best_? It would be beyond him.) It seemed to fall into place just alright. The universe has been kind enough to Akaashi Keiji and he wouldn’t really ask for more.

Four weeks before his junior high graduation, though, the universe decides to rock the boat and Akaashi, a plain and simple human being, witnesses a star for the first time.

His first thought, without hesitation, is: _I want to chase that._

Followed immediately by a long, quiet _oh_.

_This is new._

_———_

You see- that begins the ascent. 

———

_“I’m Akaashi Keiji from Mori Junior High. I used to play setter. Pleased to make your acquaintance._ ”

———

When Akaashi enters high school, he finds himself waist-deep in the territory of beasts. But he is here by choice, _a bold choice,_ he reminds himself, and is more than prepared to deal with the ways of superior players. 

Or so he thought.

Akaashi can’t maintain that he’s prepared when _the_ Bokuto Koutarou scoots up to _him_ , a first-year nobody, and asks him if he can join in his extra practice twice in a row.

“Akashi-kun? Will you toss for me for a while today?”

“It’s Akaashi.” He deftly busies himself with collecting balls, keeping his expression carefully neutral while Bokuto hovers around him, practically buzzing with eagerness. “And yes, Bokuto-san, I can toss to you, if you’ll have me.”

“Aah!” The second-year’s eyes widen and shine. “You remember my name!”

“You told me earlier,” Akaashi reminds him. “Also, the Captain introduced everyone by name during the first day. It’s a bit hard to forget since that was two days ago.”

Some people might probably find that a bit too informal to say to a senior, but Bokuto seems to take it in his stride and bursts out laughing, hands on his hips. “It’s ‘cause you’ve got a good memory, Akaashi-kun! And see-” He points at himself proudly. “I’ll remember that it’s _Akaashi_ , not Akashi, so that makes us even!”

The older boy is bright, expressive, unpredictable and powerful. Everything that Akaashi is not.

Yet, the corners of Akaashi’s lips can’t help but tilt upwards just slightly.

“I sure hope you’ll remember my name if you keep asking me to toss for you, Bokuto-san.”

“ _Akaashi_!”

———

_Akaashi-kun_ very, very quickly becomes _Akaashi_ , which soon becomes _A-kaaaaashiii, eat lunch with me_ and _Aaaa-kaashi I need help with my math homework_ and _Akaasshiiiiii toss for me! Again! Again!!_ And-

Slowly, Akaashi realizes, he may be in way, way too deep to be a mere casual observer of Fukurodani’s boys volleyball team.

If he has to pinpoint the moment of realisation, it’s on that particularly frosty Friday morning, when Konoha slips a heat pack into his pocket and Komi slaps a can of hot coffee on his table, that Akaashi is struck by a different kind of warmth in his heart, and it hits him that perhaps, just maybe, he’s somehow been integrated to be a part of _them_. Dare he feel proud?

And, he supposes, if he really thinks about it, perhaps he has some reason to be, because the seniors and juniors alike pat him on the back after nice sets and give him unbridled feedback after practice, like they trust in his ability to deliver _after_ , with the promise of future games at the tip of their tongues.

And maybe he can dare to feel like he belongs, because Konoha and Sarukui hang out with him between classes and schedule lunches, and Komi buys him juice after morning practice and texts him cute dog photos, and Bokuto rolls into his lunch breaks every other day with pleas of help with homework and promises of onigiri and bento – and because even Washio, man of steel, sits with him in the clubroom and provides commentary on the books he reads.

 _Because_ , Bokuto keeps singling him out for spiking practice, week after week after _week_ without fail, and smiles at him brilliantly when his palm connects with Akaashi’s tosses like he’s the sun. Sometimes they get ice cream after.

( _Nobody else can handle it like you do, Konoha tells him. It’s tiring as shit._

_It’s okay, Akaashi says. I’ll do it if I have to._

_That’s it, though, Konoha quips. You don’t actually have to do it._

_Well, it makes me happy to see Bokuto-san at his best, so it’s fine. I’ll still do it._

_Konoha laughs, pats his shoulder._

_You’re a weird one, Akaashi, But in a good way. Good on both of you._ )

The days are, obviously, not always good, and Bokuto is not always the ace that he wants to be, but on the good days when the ball connects, he understands his brilliance, clear as day, and it reminds him time and again that he wants to see Bokuto reach the peaks and shine so that the rest of the world, too, can see.

“You’re going to be a star, you know,” he mumbles absentmindedly one day, when he’s taping Bokuto’s fingers after a botched overhead receive.

“Huh?” Bokuto vibrates on the spot. “What didja say?”

“You have to pay more attention to the court, you know.”

It works, eight months later and it still works - the sets that they work out together and techniques that they teach each other get better over the passing weeks. Even Akaashi’s rebound, which seemed embarrassing at the beginning, starts paying off smartly in matches, and Bokuto’s condition climbs with Akaashi around to practice with him and pull him out of his slumps. 

_Your tosses are the best_ , Bokuto always exclaims like he means it, and Akaashi really, _really_ wants to believe it.

———

Sometime towards the end of his first year in Fukurodani, he gets his first actual shock.

“I don’t-” Akaashi says hesitantly. “Sorry, I think I misheard? Did we both mishear?”

Bokuto’s been chattering and jumping circles around him, and he’s confused. Or, at least, he _thinks_ he’s confused, because Bokuto keeps telling him that Coach is suggesting that _Akaashi_ joins the starting lineup in anticipation of being put in real games, which he initially thought could easily be attributed to a case of broken telephone _a la_ Bokuto, except that he just heard those same words come out of Coach’s mouth a few minutes ago. “Bokuto-san, please stop bouncing around.”

Bokuto, enthusiastic as ever, grins widely and smacks him on the shoulder with a resounding _thump_. “I said, keep tossing for me, Akaashi! In _actual_ matches!” He sends Coach a confident thumbs-up from where they’re standing, just outside the gym, who returns the gesture as confirmation. “Coach said so, and I said so, so that’s that!”

Akaashi shakes his head. “But I’m still in my first year.”

“It doesn’t matter! The third years are gonna graduate soon, and then I’m gonna be a senior and you’re gonna be a junior, hey hey!”

“What about the others? There are others, aren’t there?” He doesn’t know what’s worse, him being chosen over other people who probably have more experience or potential, or the fact that this has become immensely important to him. 

He really shouldn’t care that much. But he kind of does.

“Akaashi.” Bokuto, who’s stopped jumping, frowns and shuffles closer to him. “Y’know, I don’t like to play favourites, but I wanna be honest,” he says, nudging him gently with his elbow. “I like your tosses better than anyone else’s, y’know. I think they’re really great and I like them.”

Akaashi thinks he should be prepared for Bokuto’s unfiltered praise by now, but it still hits him all the same. “I’m being serious, Bokuto-san,” he mutters, fingers twisting. “I need to make sure I won’t pull the team down.”

Bokuto stares at him in a rare moment of quiet. 

“And I’m being serious too. I promise it’ll be okay.”

Akaashi studies Bokuto’s face carefully for signs of mischief, but there are none - Bokuto’s expression is calm, earnest and expectant. _Trust me_ , his eyes read, and Akaashi can’t help but resign himself to it.

_I see the sky and stars in you, Bokuto-san - I wonder what you see in me._

“You mean it?”

Bokuto nods vigorously, and extends his pinky finger with childlike excitement.

“Pinky promise!”

Something in Akaashi’s chest melts, and he relents. “Pinky promise,” he affirms, looping his pinky in his and pointedly ignoring the warmth running down the tip of his ears to his cheeks. “I’ll do my best.”

Bokuto beams, swinging their entwined pinkies towards the sky and pulling him back into the gym.

“You’re the best, Akaashi!” 

———

_Are you sure?_ is a question that lingers at the tip of his tongue.

A second, quieter, question beckons.

_Isn’t this what you came here for?_

He swallows.

———

One Friday afternoon, he finds himself cornered by Bokuto and is forced (read: manhandled) to take a walk with him to the nearest convenience store. 

“Sooo.” Bokuto swings out of the store and puts an onigiri ball squarely in his hands. It’s labelled _Salmon_. “I wanted to talk to you about something _important_ , like, _volleyball important_.” 

“Oh?” Akaashi blinks. “But you could have said it in school, right?” He glances at Bokuto, the onigiri, and back at Bokuto again, eyes narrowing. “Is something wrong? Do you owe Yukie-san money again, because I swear, Bokuto-san, you need to learn how to budget-”

“Ah, no no, nothing’s wrong! In fact-” Bokuto waves his arms, ushering him to the nearest bench. “It’s something good! I wanted to tell you like, outta school, ‘cause it’s kind of important to me, and I thought I’d get you a snack, too, while I’m at it!” 

“…So this isn’t a bribe.” Akaashi seats himself, hands cradled around the wrapped rice ball on his lap. It’s a cute gesture, he thinks. Weird, but cute, in a way only Bokuto can manage. 

Bokuto shakes his head vigorously. “Akaashi, think better of me! Oh, anyway-” He plops himself down and turns to him. “Y’know I had to duck out of practice early yesterday, right-”

“You stopped practicing twenty minutes late, Bokuto-san.”

Akaashi takes a tentative bite out of the rice ball as Bokuto sputters in protest. It’s nice and the rice is fairly fluffy for a store-bought piece.

“ _That’s still early!_ Anyway, it’s ‘cause Coach asked me to see him, and I said okay, what is it?”

The salmon bits are nice, too, if only a little dry. They go well with the seaweed.

“So Coach said, we’re nearing the end of the school year, the third years are graduating and we’ll need a new team and new leadership. Well, you knew that already.”

Bokuto pauses then, and Akaashi’s fingers come to a halt, the plastic wrapper of the finished onigiri folded neatly in between his thumbs and indexes.

“Akaashi,” he says. “Coach asked me to be Captain.”

Akaashi blinks. Well, of course he would.

“Congratulations, Bokuto-san, I’m not surprised.”

“Aw, come on! Be a bit more excited, would you!” Bokuto nudges him, grinning, but Akaashi notices the slight tense of his left jaw and senses that there’s a bit more to what he wants to say, so he presses on a little. 

“So, why aren’t _you_ more excited?”

“Oh!” Bokuto exclaims. “I’m plenty excited! Of course I wanna be Captain and all that! But, I wanted to talk to you anyway, cause-” He tilts his head. “Well, what do you think?”

_Uh._

_Huh?_

His confusion must show on his face, because Bokuto immediately reacts. “I mean,” he says, leaning in a little, “I wanted to know if you think I’d make a good captain.”

Akaashi continues to stare at him blankly, because it’s- it’s a weird question, right.

“Of course you would, you’re an excellent, passionate player and you greatly motivate the team. Besides, why would my opinion even matter for something like that?”

“ _Akaashi,_ ” Bokuto whines. “Of course it matters, your opinion always matters! And, well-” 

He seems to hesitate, if only for a fraction of a second. 

“You see, I want you to be my vice-captain, so I thought I should ask you first.”

“Oh. That’s very considerate of you.” 

The onigiri wrapper crinkles between his fingers. 

_Wait, wait, wait._

“ _Me?_ ” he asks, feeling his chest tighten. “I-vice captain?”

“Yeah, dummy.” Bokuto folds his arms and lifts his chin. “There’s nobody else who can fill the mighty shoes of being my vice-captain.”

 _Except, there probably is. There has to be._ “Bokuto-san, I’m too junior to fill that role.”

“Nuh-uh. Coach said so, and I said so, and everyone else thinks so, and even if they didn’t, _I_ think so, and that counts for like, a hundred votes-” 

“ _Bokuto-san_.” Akaashi interrupts, tilting his body entirely to face him. “I thought Washio-san would be a good fit for vice-captain. He’s mature, calm and rational. Why not him?”

Bokuto only stares back at him in confusion.

“Aren’t you also mature, calm and rational?”

Before Akaashi can open his mouth to answer, though, Bokuto dissolves into laughter.

“ _Ah_ - _kaaaashi_. Washio doesn’t want to be vice-captain! In fact, he said that you’d be the best fit because you can handle me the best.”

Talk about being direct. Akaashi can’t help but politely huff at that. “You can be quite a handful after all.”

Bokuto confidently mirrors his smile. “Well, you can handle it. Didn’t you hear what I said? You’re not just a good fit, you’re the _best_ fit, Akaashi.”

This really should not feel as intimate as it does, and Akaashi is guilty of letting the feeling persist as he lets the silence between them linger. 

What is he supposed to say now, that he agrees, even though he’s inexperienced and out of his league? He’s walking amongst giants like the one sitting before him, who’s asking him to take on a leadership position for an activity he’s _okay_ at? When did this begin, anyway? Why is this so important? Volleyball was never his passion but he ended up being sucked in all the same. Maybe it was when he first saw-

“You’re doing that thing again.”

Akaashi starts when he realizes Bokuto’s still staring at him. “Huh?”

“That thing when you start to overthink and become overwhelmed.” His senior imitates the sound of whirring gears, hands waving above his head. “Kaboom! That’s not good.” 

“Yes, I…”

He feels a gentle slap to the shoulder. “Do what you always do, and be who you always are, and you’ll shine. Right?”

Bokuto’s hand sits warmly on Akaashi’s shoulder and it floods into him, the memories of seeing that first spike, the fleeting thought that he was a star, the moment of clarity. _I want to chase that._

In his mind, he comes to the conclusion that he will at all times probably always be a little overwhelmed.

But that’s okay. Despite it all, he can continue to do his best. 

_Do you trust me?_ Bokuto’s eye spell, simply.

Akaashi bows his head slightly. Yes, he does.

“Very well. I’ll do the best that I can, but I leave the rest of it in your good hands, Bokuto-san.” 

He glances up at Bokuto.

“If you’ll have me.”

Bokuto stares at him for all but a few seconds, before his eyes begin to shine and Akaashi is quickly swept into a bone-crushing hug.

“ _AKAASHI!!_ You’re the best! You can count on me, I swear!”

He pulls back, still beaming at him.

“Let’s do our best in the new year!”

Akaashi begins to smile, if only just a little.

“Yes, let’s.”

Bokuto’s face scrunches up in glee. “I’m _sooo_ excited for the new year to come now!”

“You do need to work on being more consistent, though. And you’ll need to assume some responsibilities, you know. I’m not going to be doing _all_ the form-filling.”

“Aaah, I know, I know…”

As they rise from the bench, Bokuto snatches the plastic wrapper out of his hands and bounds to the other end of the parking lot, tossing it into a bin as he watches from afar. “Disposing of evidence of the bribe,” he explains as he hops back to his side, cheeks pink and shining. “Oops, I mean the gift. I hope it was nice, I know you always pick the salmon flavours!” 

Akaashi feels the tips of his ears burn.

“…Thank you for the onigiri, Bokuto-san.”

———

Literally nobody is surprised when Coach makes the official announcement a few practices later and Bokuto interrupts his speech with a well(?)-timed somersault. 

“You can count on us,” Bokuto exclaims.

“We’re in your good hands,” Akaashi supplies.

Bokuto smiles widely, and his heart pounds. 

It’s official. He’s in it deep. 

———

A lot happens in the course of the year that follows which requires no explanation other than volleyball, volleyball, _volleyball and Bokuto_. His teammates have confidence in him. He has confidence in his teammates. There is trust. It’s incredible. It’s freeing.

It’s also scary. Familiarity threatens to envelop him and make him comfortable in a place he isn’t wired to belong in. 

Akaashi isn’t porcelain. He is flesh and bones and hot blood, commanded by sentient thought. He doesn’t slip, crash, and shatter. 

But some days, he threatens to crack. 

The bathroom mirror is a neutral spectator to his inner turmoil. Today, it is his best companion, as he stands at the sink and contemplates everything that he might’ve done, and could’ve done better, as a teammate, as a vice-captain, and as a person. 

It’s just one of those days, where the nagging feeling of doubt becomes a gnawing feeling, which becomes a sinking of teeth and a long-drawn rip. 

Akaashi’s hands come to rest on the sink’s edge, his reflection glaring back at him. 

“You,” he hisses, “are so. Damn. Mediocre.”

(If Washio sees him pointing at his reflection and talking to himself, he doesn’t mention it.)

———

Time soon progresses into a new school year, a new season of games, a new summer camp - and seven straight days of one _Kuroo-san_.

“You know, you don’t have to be on alert all the time.”

Akaashi peels his eyes away from Bokuto and Hinata in the distance to see Nekoma’s captain striding towards him. “Someone has to be,” he offers, setting his water bottle down. “Who knows what trouble they might get into without parental guidance?”

“Ha!” Kuroo smirks. “Bold words for someone who’s barely seventeen.” 

“Coming from someone who’s barely eighteen,” he replies coolly, unperturbed. Kuroo, naturally, snickers in response.

“Smart-ass. That’s not what I was talking about.” Kuroo extends his leg and settles down on the floor next to him in some kind of calf stretch. “I mean, you look worried. You’re thinking about something, aren’t you?” He raises a brow, questioning. “About you, and them.”

It’s Akaashi’s turn to raise a brow. “Me…and who?”

“You and the team. You, in the team?”

This cryptic pattern of speech makes Akaashi bristle. “Kuroo-san,” he says quietly, “you’re trying to tell me something, and I know you’re trying to tell me something. I don’t know what it is you’re trying to tell me. Please just say it.”

“Ah, sorry.” Kuroo raises his hands. “Okay, don’t get mad-”

“I’m not mad.”

“-I’m just saying you don’t have to doubt yourself so much.”

 _Ah._

Akaashi stares at him, feeling his throat close up. 

“I don’t…” he starts hesitantly, before clearing his throat. “Kuroo-san, I’m alright.”

Kuroo sighs. 

“You push yourself hard,” he says. 

Akaashi shakes his head. It’s hard to explain. “For them, I need to do my best.” 

Something in Kuroo’s expression softens. “Akaashi. Look. Bo kinda really li- uh.” He coughs. “Never mind. Bo thinks you’re great, and I quote, ‘ _the best setter he’ll ever get in his lifetime_ ’- don’t look at me like that, he means it-”

“Uh huh.”

“He means it,” Kuroo repeats firmly. “So believe it.”

Akaashi blinks in astonishment, careful to keep his mouth closed. His gaze flickers towards Bokuto, whose laughter carries across the room and into his ears. Hinata says something to him excitedly, and Bokuto’s head bobs up for a moment, making eye contact with Akaashi as he grins, and, _oh_ , Akaashi suddenly thinks, heart skipping a beat, that maybe, just _maybe_ , he could believe it-

 _It’s dangerous_ , Akaashi realises, startled, as he almost smiles back. _This is the climb._ If he falls now, it’ll be a long drop.

He feels Kuroo’s hand clap down on his shoulder as he stands back up.

“Don’t put yourself down so easy, okay? Besides-” the mischievous glint in his eye returns. “I’ll be sure to let you know if you start to suck.”

Akaashi can only smile serenely in response. “We’ll see how you fare during our next 3-on-3.”

———

Washio does mention it, one day, while they’re cleaning up after a practice match. 

“You’re doing well,” he says to him as they stack jerseys.

“Oh.” Akaashi occupies himself with the volleyballs on the left. “I’m just doing what I should.”

“Well, it’s okay, you can give yourself some credit.” His senior glances at him. “You’ve been scolding yourself. Is everything okay?”

Washio is generally not a particularly sensitive person, neither is he a “ _we need to talk_ ” kind of person. Somehow, he is both of those persons today.

For a moment, Akaashi freezes. “I’m fine.” Causing his seniors concern is the last thing he wants to do. “Sorry for the trouble, Washio-san.”

“No trouble at all.” Washio pats the top of the jerseys flat, stack complete. “We just want to know if anything’s on your mind. Bokuto seems to be doing fine, too.”

Akaashi nods. “He is, actually, in a good condition. I think he’s able to see the trajectory of his spikes clearer than ever now.”

“And yourself?”

Akaashi blinks. 

“Me?”

“Yes, you. How are you?”

Akaashi looks at Washio, who looks back, gaze focused, expectant. “I...” he trails off, slipping the volleyball in his arms into the bassinet. “I’m okay. I think.”

Washio contemplates him, brows slightly furrowed. “I’m not one to pry,” he says slowly, “but take care, okay? The team needs its setter and vice-captain.”

He exhales. _I know_ , he almost says. _I just want to be better for the team. I just don’t want to let you down._

“I’ll do my best,” he says instead. “I wouldn’t let my-” _Insecurities._ “-shortcomings affect our performance.”

“We work as a team. Where we fall short, we pick each other up.” Washio nods at him. “That includes you, Akaashi. We’re there for you, if and when.”

The gym is empty, and sun setting. The squeak of Akaashi’s shoe is the only thing he hears as he takes an involuntary step back. He is there for them, and they are there for him. 

Each day, he is more familiar. Each day, he is more emboldened. 

If he falls from this height, then what?

Lost in thought, Akaashi tries to pick another volleyball up to wipe it, but Washio hits it down with a sharp, quiet swipe. “Let me handle it,” he says, expression stoic but eyes kind. “Go home first.”

“Washio-san, it’s alright, I can continue.”

He waves his hand at him, dismissing his protest. “Go home, Akaashi. That’s part of doing your best, too. And text Bokuto when you get home,” he adds amusedly. “He worries, you know.”

“The roads are safe at seven in the evening, Washio-san,” Akaashi replies, as he bows slightly. “But thank you.”

He texts Bokuto later, anyway.

\------

_Isn’t this what you came here for?_

And he is there, lifted on the shoulders of those who have rightfully earned their place in the sky. It’s his privilege to walk amongst giants.

There’s only so much that he can do on his own strength, only so far that he can go, so much that he can be, so after Fukurodani places second at the Spring High finals in his second year and he remembers the impending departure of the third years, he is _nervous_.

He reminds himself that he cannot let himself believe that he’s one of them, even for a second. Because that thinking is _dangerous_ and it will cause him to _fall_. He is on borrowed wings. Akaashi Keiji was born from the ground and not built to fly, even as he chased, and caught up, and reached and reached and _reached_.

 _Captain_ , Bokuto tells him after the Spring High as he holds both of his hands in his, warm and bright and earnest. _You should become Captain and lead the team-_

He is on the top of building blocks risen to the skies, built upon effort and talent, but when those talents peel away and soar to greater heights, will they still hold his weight?

 _Oh_ , he realizes as a familiar sensation in his chest threatens to rise. 

He is afraid of what comes next.

———-

Konoha had asked him one night during their Autumn training camp: _Akaashi, what’s your greatest fear?_

 _Heights_ , he had replied. _Flying._

The truth is that he fears neither. The truth is that he fears failure. He fears being not good enough. He fears falling from a great height and realising that maybe, he isn’t meant to chase the stars, that the universe has sent him on a long trail only to come back to square one.

Above all, he is afraid that one day, he will be discovered for who he really is-

A coward, for not being able to face a single one of his fears.

———

It’s on his last day as vice-captain that he resolves to own up to it, when the clock strikes seven and it’s just him and Bokuto in the locker room. Why his soon-to-be former captain stayed back to wait for him, he doesn’t know. His mind is abuzz with nerves and thoughts about stars and light and free-falling into unchartered depths when Bokuto glances at him in question, and he takes a deep, deep breath. 

The universe, perhaps, knew when it set him on this path. 

“Is it okay,” he says, suddenly, “that I’m never going to be as good as you?”

As the words come out, something inside him braces for impact, like, _if you keep asking me that, you’ll never be as good as me_. Or, _you’ll never be as good as me_ , plain and simple _._ Which he already knows. Why did he even ask?

Instead, Bokuto holds his breath, stares at him, and gently tosses the ball he’s holding into Akaashi’s arms.

“Akaashi.” Bokuto does not move an inch as his large, luminous eyes bear into his. “What makes you think you’re not as good as the person you’re setting for?”

Akaashi’s jaw clenches, and his throat threatens to close up. 

“I’m-” he chokes. “What if I’m just _not_?”

Bokuto takes a step closer, tentative look in his eyes. “Akaashi,” he says quietly, “You are. Even if you don’t believe so, I think you are. And if I’m saying it, well-” he takes another step closer. “-it must be true, then, because you’re my setter.”

The inevitable happens. Akaashi feels his shoulders tense all the way to his temples. Something hollows in his stomach and he sits abruptly, the corners of his eyes starting to burn as he covers his face with his hands. The ball drops to his feet and rolls away. He doesn’t know. He can’t see out of his fingers.

 _Embarrassing_ , he thinks. _What’s the point of being able to predict your own behaviour when you’re not able to control it?_

Bokuto’s by his side within seconds. “Ah, don’t cry-” He slides onto the bench, bumping his thigh.

“Bokuto-san.” His voice is muffled as his eyes fill with tears. “You’ve always been a star, and I’ve always been on the ground, reaching up. This doesn’t make sense.”

“It does make sense!” Bokuto bumps his shoulder gently, and he shudders. “You caught up. You got here with me.”

Hot tears fall into his palms. “I don’t know how far I can go,” he confesses. “Bokuto-san, I don’t know. I’m scared.”

Bokuto is quiet for a moment.

“Scared of being Captain, or scared of being without me?”

People don’t realise that Bokuto is sharp. Bokuto is so loud, cheerful, silly, that they forget how perceptive he is.

“Both,” Akaashi whispers, as the realisation hits him like a shooting star, that this is more than just a simple discussion about volleyball. 

“Akaashi, _Akaashi_ ,” Bokuto’s hand rubbing circles into his back is warm, reassuring, and it almost makes him cry harder. “You don’t need me to be a good Captain. You don’t need me to be a good player. Like, how I’m gonna work hard to be the best player, even without you.”

Akaashi’s breath trembles.

“But you know what, Akaashi?” Bokuto’s hand pauses on the small of his back, tenderly and tentatively. “I’m scared too, because I think I’m going to miss you.”

Akaashi’s heart stops, there and then.

“Bokuto-san,” he croaks, glancing up, eyes wide as he drops his hands into his lap, “ _what_ -” 

“I won’t say it yet.” Bokuto gazes back at him, dusting of pink on his cheeks. “But I wanted you to know that it’s okay to be scared.” He laughs. “We can be scared together.”

Despite everything, Akaashi finds it in himself to let out a small laugh in return. “I...I’d rather neither of us be scared.”

At this, Bokuto smiles. “I know,” he says, “Akaashi, I’m saying, believe in yourself.”

The universe is perhaps not cruel, but complicated. The climb to the top not insurmountable, but challenging. His wings not imagined, but developing.

 _It’s not impossible, only hard_ , he remembers.

He breathes again.

“...I will,” he says, voice low, quiet. “Bokuto-san, I promise I will.”

Bokuto laughs again as he slowly retracts his arm. Akaashi immediately misses the warmth. 

“You make that promise to yourself, not me,” Bokuto says, smiling.

“I promise,” Akaashi replies, not looking away. “And I mean it.”

 _Do you trust me?_ His words lie unsaid, spelt in his gaze.

Bokuto’s smile widens. _Yes, I do_.

The storm in his heart, dissipates.

“Bokuto-san, you…” Akaashi, this time, dares to reach for his hand, and takes his pinky finger in his as he bumps their shoulders together. “You’d miss me?”

Bokuto is close, close enough for him to see his lashes and luminescent yellow eyes, which widen in comprehension and wonder.

“Yeah,” he says breathlessly, leaning in a little closer. “Yeah, I’d miss you.”

Akaashi’s grip trembles as his heart races, but he urges himself to hold on.

“Me too,” he murmurs, body turning as he leans towards him more. “Bokuto-san, me too.”

It’s chaste, Bokuto leaning in and pressing his lips to his, and him pressing back for a moment before they break apart, but it’s warm and comforting and Akaashi eases into the sensation like it’s second nature and oh, _oh_ , this he would chase to the ends of the earth.

Bokuto leans away, gaze filled with awe.

“Graduation is tomorrow,” he says, softly. “When I ask you for real, will you say yes?”

Akaashi looks into his eyes, and he sees stars, the path of the universe, _him_ , and thinks, _yes, now, yes, to chasing, yes, to you_.

“I will.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!! Comments are appreciated but of course I’m just happy that I was able to share this with you. This is based on a lot of things, including my own experience with inferiority complex and complicated feelings and mental breakdowns. I also wanted to make clear in the fic that Akaashi isn’t reliant on others, and isn’t fragile, and neither is Bokuto a rescue-all. Both support each other, and hold each other up. Bokuto reaches out, and Akaashi responds in turn. 
> 
> anyway, my first bokuaka on the record. I have one more in drafts but I'm not sure when I'll get it done - I have in mind another which I hope I'll finish this month! 
> 
> @yuzubalm on twitter if you wanna come say hi:)


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